


A Brand New Start

by hannah_bo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon compliant maybe?, Derek is attempting to move on and heal, Flashbacks, M/M, Musician Stiles!, New York City is the place to reconnect, Post canon, new years day, potentially a sort of collection of moments?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_bo/pseuds/hannah_bo
Summary: Of all the places Derek thought he would wind up after Beacon Hills, he didn’t expect to be back in New York City. Or friendly with his local bartender. And he certainly didn't expect to see anyone he knew on New Years Day.





	1. Brand New Start

Of all the places Derek thought he would wind up after Beacon Hills, he didn’t expect to be back in New York City. There was so much here. The memories of trying to figure out life post the fire with Laura, Laura leaving him. But maybe that was what had drawn him back. He was forced to go back to Beacon Hills, and he was able to finally move past things. His grief, the trauma with Kate, and even figuring out how to deal with Peter. He had lost a lot, of course. There would always be a hole where his betas belonged, a guilt over Boyd and Erica. But he had a new pack in a way. Scott had been ready to listen to Derek after a while, and Stiles...well Stiles had always trusted him. Even when he didn’t like him. 

They had won. As a team, they had managed to defeat the big bads, and it was time for them all to move on. So he had packed up, told Scott where he was going and to call if he needed anything. And he had wound up, back in the apartment he had shared with Laura, trying to find closure in this part of his story. Which was going well. He had forgotten what he liked about the city, the ability to blend into a crowd, be one of the many. 

What he didn’t like was New Years Eve. Laura had dragged him to the ball drop the first year they were in the city, he hated it. But it was Laura’s favorite holiday so he had obliged. The next few years he let her plan their night, but she never made him go back to Times Square, which he was grateful for. Now without her, or any of his pack, he spent New Years Eve at home, content to watch the fireworks from his window. Which is what he had done last night. But tonight, the first night of the new year, he felt the need to be out, which was how he found himself at his favorite bar, The Wolf’s Den. Admittedly the name was what had grabbed his attention when he moved back two years ago, snapping a picture to send to Stiles, sure he would get a kick out of it. 

He did.

The bar was generally pretty quiet; a small, hidden, little jazz bar wasn’t where most New Yorkers wanted to spend their nights out. So Derek had made it his regular place. He had always loved jazz, and liked that the bar was known to book well known local jazz artists and amateurs, giving them a chance to work on their sets in front of a crowd. If there was one thing Derek had learned in his life, it was a good thing to let amateurs learn, otherwise they’ll never get to be pros. Scott was a great example, although it was more a necessity than a choice. Sink or swim did a hell of a number on them all. 

Sliding into his favorite spot at the bar, he caught the eye of the bartender, a guy named Jack who he had gotten to know on a surface level. It at least made spending a few hours at the bar a little less awkward when you could chat with the bartender. He could imagine Isaac laughing at the situation, Derek Hale small talking with a bartender, being a regular anywhere. What could he say? He was trying. Jack dropped off his regular scotch with a smile before turning back to 

He couldn’t see the stage area well tonight, but he was enjoying the music tonight, a solo piano doing mostly freeform. He could hear the occasional standard mixed in there, it was a good set. The pianist played with confidence and passion, a little wild, but it worked for his jazz.

It reminded him of Stiles. 

He sighed and downed the remainder of the scotch in his glass, fiddling with it once it was empty. It wasn’t that he wasn’t in contact with the McCall pack, he was, it was that things were different. Scott was the best at keeping in contact, making sure he was handling things the way an alpha should. Derek was happy that Scott was coming to him for help, though there was the voice that reminded him Scott didn’t have another choice. He had helped Lydia get established with a pack in Cambridge when she went off to MIT, so she checks in letting him know how things are going, asks about him. They both are haunted by the losses of their pasts, something he hadn’t imagined connecting with her about. It’s a tentative friendship, but he appreciates it. He had gone to her graduation last year, top of her class, which no one had been surprised by. He had left soon after the ceremony finished, after he watched Scott and Stiles run to her to congratulate her. She knew he had been there, the text thanking him for coming that he received as he got to his car confirmed that. She was the one who had told him Stiles was back out East, but didn’t tell him what it was he was up to. He supposed she was letting him have the opportunity to open the door and ask. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he did. Intensely. But he wasn’t sure where they stood. Stiles had found him in South America, brought him back to Beacon Hills for that final fight. And then Derek had left again, without a goodbye. 

At least in person. 

He had sent a text. 

They would talk occasionally, like when Derek sent him the picture of The Wolf’s Den, but it was sparse and nothing too deep. Derek hated to admit it, but he missed him. It hadn’t always been an easy relationship, but it had been solid. And there had always been… something. He could smell it on Stiles, and he knew it was a mirror of what Derek was feeling. But it had never been a good time. There was always something to fix. And then Stiles had been possessed, and the idea of losing him had struck fear deep within Derek that he hadn’t felt since losing Laura. 

He was jerked out of his thoughts by Jack placing another scotch in front of him. 

“Thanks,” he said tipping the glass towards the bartender.

“Haven’t seen you around much lately,” Jack said taking a moment to talk to him. “I was starting to think you had left us for good.”

“I just had some work that was pressing, had to get to that,” Derek replied with a small shrug. Which was true. The publishing house he worked for had received an influx of manuscripts that he had needed to read. He also hadn’t felt like being out in the holiday bustle, but Jack didn’t need to know that. 

“Well it’s good to have you back. I think you’ll like this musician. I can’t remember his name but he’s played here a few times and I always think you’d enjoy it,” Jack’s attention is drawn towards the end of the bar where a new group had sat down. “I’ll pop by again in a bit, it’s good to see you.” And he was off. 

Derek sighed and turned to watch the crowd, enjoying the ease at which they all seemed to fit in their places, the smooth piano underscoring the noise of several conversations. It was nice. The song ended and there was a polite round of applause while Derek sipped on his drink.

“Thanks so much,” an incredibly familiar voice said through the mic, making Derek choke on his drink. It couldn’t be. “I know last night was New Years Eve, but this is the one year anniversary of me living in this great city,” more light applause and the voice kept going. “Thanks! Yeah I made it! A friend of mine lived out here for a while, and he uhh, well he seemed to like it so I thought I’d try it out. But uhm, this song is one of my faves, and being from a tiny town in California, it resonates with me about this town. So thanks for listening in advance.” And then he began to sing. 

Start spreading the news,  
I’m leaving today.  
I want to be a part of it,  
New York, New York.

Derek stood, making his way towards the stage as the voice began to sing “New York, New York”. Something was clawing to the surface, that voice as familiar as his own, but the scent hadn’t come through the crowd yet. He had to be sure. 

These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray  
And step around the heart of it,  
New York, New York. 

Derek’s breath caught in his throat as he inched closer and caught a glimpse of dark hair, and pale skin sitting at the piano.

I wanna wake up in a city that doesn’t sleep,  
And find I’m king of the hill, top of the heap.  
These little town blues, are melting away. 

Derek pushed his way to the front of the stage, facing the piano and had a full view of the man sitting there. Dark eyelashes fanning his cheeks as his eyes were closed, full lips clasping onto each word he sang, moles exactly where Derek knew they were. 

You’ll make a brand new start of it, in Old New York,  
And if you can make it there,  
You’ll make it anywhere

His voice rasped and eased over the words and notes where it needed to, and then Stiles opened his eyes and looked right at Derek. Surprise and joy colored his scent and he quirked a smile at him. 

It’s up to you, New York, New York  
I’m gonna make a brand new start of it, in old New York  
New York!

As he wrapped up the song, applause burst out around Derek, and Stiles broke eye contact to wave out to the rest of the audience, totally at ease on that stage, playing music.

“Thanks. Thank you,” Stiles said into the mic before grabbing the bottle of water by the bench and making his way to Derek. “Hey,” he said before taking a sip of water.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too Derek, I’ve been great!” Stiles replied rolling his eyes. “Trying out the music thing I always wanted to do, but hadn’t touched a piano since my mom died. I needed something… different. I’m over violence and chasing bad guys at the moment. And I’m good at this.” He shrugged taking another sip of water. “Plus you sent me the picture of this bar so when I moved here, I had to check it out.”

“I thought you were going back to the FBI.”

“I am, in about six months. Like I said, I needed something different, so I took some time and reapplied. My supervisor was pretty desperate to have me back but could see I needed time after the trip to Beacon Hills.” Derek nodded, still a little in shock at what he was seeing. “I’m a little surprised to see you here, actually. Finally decided not to be a hermit?”

“I’m getting better,” Derek said rolling his eyes. Stiles smiled at him again, sending his stomach swooping. 

“That’s good to hear, Derek. Really. You look good,” Stiles’ eyes went wide. “I mean you look like you’re doing good. Well. Uhh…” Stiles shoved his free hand deep in his pocket and gripped the water bottle with the other.

“You look good too, Stiles,” Derek said with a smile. “Was that the end of your set?” Stiles nodded, not meeting his eyes. Suddenly he looked just like the teenager he had fought battles with all those years ago. It warmed something in him. “What are you up to now?”

“Well I was gonna go home and eat, but I realized that I haven’t been grocery shopping in far too long, so I was probably gonna go grab something to eat.” 

“I know a great diner just around the corner.”

“That’s open at 12:30am?”

“Stiles, you just sang a song about this being the city that never sleeps.” Derek said, laughing at Stiles’ slight pout. “It’s open, and has the best curly fries.” Stiles smiled and shook his head slightly. 

“I can’t say no to curly fries. Let me grab my stuff?”

“I need to pay my tab, so I’ll meet you at the front?” Stiles nodded and headed towards the back, while Derek moved towards the bar. He wasn’t expecting anything. He couldn’t. But he would take this time he was given, this chance to catch up. He was buttoning up his coat when Stiles caught up with him at the front door. 

“You ready to go?” Derek asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Yep, lead the way Sourwolf,” Stiles said with a smirk. Derek sighed and pushed the door open, letting Stiles out first, pale cheeks coloring in the cold. They walked out into the cold together, the year still fresh and new, holding possibility. The chance for a new start. And maybe the chance for them to start.


	2. Nighthawks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles should have expected Derek to show up, and he did. To an extent. But what he sure as hell didn’t expect was Derek to ask him to get food, for Derek to stick around.

When Lydia told him he was being ridiculous, he probably should have heeded her words. Harbinger of death and all that. But something about New York had been calling him. So what if he knew that SOMETHING was actually a SOMEONE and that someone was Derek. He finished college, deciding he wanted a degree before going back to the FBI, but there was still time before he had to be back. So, New York it was.

He also hadn’t meant to start playing the piano again.

There were lots of things he hadn’t meant to do, but he’d gotten used to that after Scott had been bitten. 

He’d gotten a text from Derek, a picture of a bar called The Wolf’s Den, somewhere in the third month of being in New York. He was surprised to hear from him, seeing as he hadn’t exactly told Stiles when he left Beacon Hills, five years before. Which was fine. It’s not like Stiles had saved his ass or anything. Several times. But he knew, he knew Derek was still working on things. It didn’t stop him from checking out the bar, adding it to the list of places he would love to play sometime, if he managed to get that good. 

So he practiced. 

It had been a while since he had played, his mom was the driving force behind him learning and after she died it was harder to sit at the keys. It came back easier than he anticipated. Besides, he mostly played jazz, which meant it was okay to not be 100% right all the time. He started playing in small dive bars around the city, getting his chops, figuring out how to play in front of an audience. He managed to figure out how to get his name out to other bars, which was how he had landed his gigs at The Wolf’s Den. The first one was a stand in, but the audience and bar owners seemed to enjoy his style. Which is how he found himself with a standing Monday gig. Not a great slot, but it gave him a chance to play consistently. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for Derek. It wasn’t a compulsive thing, he didn’t sit on stage and look out every night, trying to pick him out of the crowd. He got too focused on the music for that. It was more of a cursory look around the bar when he first entered. He was never there. But he had gathered a few fans, some regulars who would stop by between sets, or after he finished to praise him, or chat about jazz. It was nice. It was safe, and simple. 

Which was why he was not ready when he actually DID run into Derek. At a gig of all places. Admittedly it was at The Wolf’s Den and Derek WAS the one who had gotten him interested in the place to begin with. He should have expected him to show up, and he did. To an extent. But what he sure as hell didn’t expect was Derek to ask him to get food, for Derek to stick around. He was ready for Derek to run, it was what he did best. This, oh man this was something he had never prepared himself for. 

They were sitting across from each other in a booth at the diner Derek had led them to. They had walked in silence, Stiles too lost for where to start. Which was why he was still silent, staring at Derek as he looked over the menu nodding to himself, as if he hadn’t been here a hundred times. He looked good, relaxed. The tension that used to hold him together was gone, tight lines relaxed. The leather jacket was still there, but it was strictly an accessory, not a piece of armor. 

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice snapped him back into focus.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you knew what you wanted,” he said, eyebrow quirking up, overly expressive as always, nodding towards the waitress who apparently had been there for a bit.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll--uhh, I’ll just get waffles and bacon,” he stammered handing over the menu. “And a cup of coffee.” The waitress smiled and walked off, leaving them in silence again. “So…”

“So New York?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded, unsure of where to take that.

“Greatest city in the world right?” He asked laughing a little. Derek just stared at him, clearly unimpressed. Stiles dragged a hand across his face, sighing. “I dunno, okay? I just… wanted something different.”

“And you thought moving across the country was the way to do that?”

“I’m not totally sure you’re the one to judge me on my life choices,” Stiles snapped before he could stop himself. He saw Derek tense, and something close in his face. “Look, I’m sorry. Low blow, I know. I just… you didn’t say bye, dude.” Derek sighed and looked out the window, eyebrows furrowed. “I thought… I thought maybe you would at least do that. Ya know, after everything.” The waitress brought Stiles’ coffee and he busied himself dumping sugar into his mug, avoiding looking at Derek. 

“I wanted to,” Stiles looked back up at Derek, who looked at least a little remorseful. “I just, needed a change,” he said with a grin. Stiles rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee, a little stunned he had gotten anything out of Derek, let alone something that emotional. The waitress returned with their food, and Stiles dug in. He caught Derek looking at him, vaguely amused. 

“I’m too nervous to eat before gigs, I’ve been playing since 9, I’m hungry okay?” Derek smiled before starting in on his omelette and hash browns. The silence that fell while they were eating felt more natural. Things were still unsaid, unresolved, but just enough HAD been said to ease the weight. Stiles didn’t realize that he was singing along to the music playing around them until he caught Derek starring with a slight smile.

“Musician, comes with the trade,” he said with a shrug. 

“I don’t recognize it, what is it?”

“It’s called “Eggs and Sausage”. It’s by Tom Waits. Not the best song but definitely fun to play in a diner. Great line about being ‘Nighthawks at the diner’, which always makes me think of the painting, which happens to be my favorite, and hey! We’re the nighthawks right now!”

“I forgot you do that.”

“What?”

“Talk without breathing. It always amazed me,” Derek said, taking a sip of his water. “Still does.” Stiles felt the blood rush to his face, and buried his face in his coffee cup. How did Derek STILL manage to make his heart feel like it was in his throat. It had been years. Admittedly Stiles’ favorite method of dealing with things was ignoring them until they went away, so he had mostly just bottled up the feelings he had for Derek, and hoped one day they would just...stop. 

Lydia was right. He should have stayed in D.C. 

“Honestly I was surprised to hear you were back out here. I mean, after all that’s happened I figured you’d want a totally clean slate.” Derek nodded, poking at the remnants of food on his plate. His eyebrows were knitted together, but not in an angry way. Stiles remembered enough of “Derek’s Eyebrow Speak” to know he was just thinking. 

“I felt like I needed to come to terms with the part of my life that happened here. I got a sense of closure in Beacon Hills, admittedly through more trauma,” Derek shrugged, but didn’t seem too upset with what he was saying. It warmed Stiles to think that maybe Derek was settling into a life without the guilt he had been carrying around with him for the better part of a decade. “I had some really good memories here. With Laura. I wanted to remember them, appreciate them. I liked the time we spent here.” The soft smile that spread over Derek’s face melted something is Stiles. 

“I...uhm, I think that’s really good Derek,” Stiles said nudging his foot against Derek’s shin under the table. He looked up at him, smiling. 

“Yeah, I do too.” A silence fell over them again as they both finished their food. The waitress brought them a check and before Stiles could ask her to split it Derek handed her his card. 

“Oh no, dude I can…” 

“Yeah and so can I. Consider it a late ‘Welcome to New York’ present,” the smile on Derek’s face looked like it fit him. His smiles had always been rare, fleeting, but always looked good. Stiles couldn’t help but return it. 

“Well thanks,” he replied running a hand through his hair, yawning. “I’m really enjoying this and could probably talk your ear off all night, but I should be getting home. I do have work tomorrow.” 

“Where are you working?”

“There’s this little coffee shop down the street from my apartment, Rise and Grind?” Stiles hated that he was falling right into the struggling artist trope, but jazz didn’t pay the bills. But there were worse places he could have worked, so he wasn’t mad about it. 

“Stiles, that’s across town. There’s no way you’re taking a cab alone at...wow okay it’s four in the morning,” Derek held up his hand as Stiles opened his mouth to argue. “And I’m not letting you take the subway.”

“Am I just supposed to stay in this booth until you deem it a more acceptable hour? Cause I would like to sleep. I do need at least four hours.” Derek’s face contorted into the most intense face he’d seen outside of battle. “I’m an adult Derek, I’ve been in the city for a year. I can make it home on my own. I’ll even text you when I get there. Okay?” He slid out of the seat shrugging his jacket back on. “Thanks for breakfast. It really was good to see you Derek.”

“It was good to see you too Stiles,” Derek followed Stiles’ lead and then made his way to the door, Stiles trailing behind him. The cold air made Stiles pull back into his jacket as much as he could, glaring at Derek who he knew was doing just fine in his stupid leather jacket. He smiled at him and waved goodbye, taking a few steps down the sidewalk before turning back to Derek.

“I play at The Wolf Den every Monday,” he said, hands deep in his pockets physically stopping himself from touching Derek in some way. “Ya know, if you want to stop by. Say hi.” That stupid smile was on Derek’s face again as he nodded.

“I’ll do that. Night Stiles.”

“Night Derek,” Stiles turned and walked towards the subway, chest warming from Derek’s smile. He thought about it the whole subway ride home. By the time he got home, he had just over four hours before he had to get up for work. He crawled into bed and shot a quick ‘Home!’ text to Derek. His heart raced as the bubble appeared as Derek typed a response. ‘Good’ he said.

With a thumbs up emoji.

The big dork. Stiles plugged his phone in and settled in, relaxing into sleep. Derek’s smile and laugh played behind his eyelids as he tried to drift off. He hated when Lydia was right. 

He was in so much trouble.


	3. Why Am I Walking Away?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You missed me.”
> 
> “Yes, Sourwolf I missed you, is that so hard to believe?”

Five Years Ago

Derek hadn’t wanted to get involved. He really hadn’t. And he would have been able to stay out of Beacon Hills if Chris Argent hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t reminded him of what he cared about in Beacon Hills. He didn’t want to see it burn, he didn’t want to see Scott, or Lydia, or even Malia hurt. 

He didn’t want to lose Stiles. Even though Stiles wasn’t his to lose. 

But he HAD to try and deal with Kate first. She was a piece that did not need to be on this board, not in this fight. He could do this for Scott. Or he could at least try. 

Stiles wasn’t supposed to show up. He wasn’t a part of the plan. But he rode in with the FBI and saved him. Derek wouldn’t admit it, be Stiles saved him as much as Derek had saved Stiles. So, he did what Stiles said and climbed in the hunk of junk he called a car. Rolling back into town was hard, he didn’t want to be back. But with Stiles in the driver's seat, it made it a little easier. The drive from North Carolina to Beacon Hills had been long. Stilted at first, neither one of them sure what to say. And then Stiles started talking. Derek had forgotten how much he could talk. He and Stiles found their rhythm again. That easy cadence they had, a mix between bantering and sincere conversation. 

Then they crossed the territory line into Beacon Hills. Derek could feel the call of this land thrumming through his veins with each beat of his heart. He wanted to run into the Preserve, into the shell of his childhood home. He took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. 

“You doin’ okay big guy?” Stiles’ voice brought him back to the Jeep. He opened his eyes, looking towards the driver's seat, Stiles’ eyes locked on the road, back and shoulders ridgid. Still. 

“Yeah, just...been a while.” 

“I know,” came the soft reply. “I don’t expect this to be easy for you. Thank you, for coming,” Stiles looked over at him briefly, then his focus was back on the pavement before them. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Peachy,” Stiles’ grinned, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Derek looked at him observing the tight lines of his jaw, neck and shoulders. “Quit staring, you’re freaking me out.”

“You’re still.”

“What?”

“The stillness, the last time I saw you like this…” he trailed off. They both knew. The nogitsune had stilled him. Stiles shifted a bit, looking at Derek again. 

“I’m okay, I am. I just…” he sighed flexing his fingers around the steering wheel. “They didn’t call me. They don’t leave, then all this shit goes down, and they don’t call me.”

“You got out, maybe they…”

“They need me!” 

“You needed out. Maybe to them that was more important.” Stiles looked over at him again, softening slightly. “It was for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“With me,” Derek shrugged looking out towards the trees. “You called me once, left a couple texts. But it wasn’t in a ‘come back we need you’ way. It was checking in. Letting me let go. Maybe they wanted you to let go.”

“Of them?”

“No, of course. A world without you and Scott together is a dark one,” Derek smiled at the laugh that pulled from Stiles. It was quiet for a few minutes, Derek could feel some of the tension leaking out of the body beside him. Derek took another look. He looked good. A little worn out at this point in the journey, but not in the way he had through high school. He’d filled out, more secure in his body, his place. He’d navigated the FBI op with a confidence Derek hadn’t seen from him before. He’d grown up. It did something to Derek that he was not entirely okay with. Before he had a chance to process that new development, Stiles turned down a drive, towards an abandoned warehouse district. Derek could hear the fire fight happening ahead of them, as Stiles accelerated towards the sounds. 

He dropped back into fighting alongside this pack like a bad habit. It was easy as breathing, something settling in his heart, sliding back into place. He found himself drifting towards Stiles every chance he got, offering input and strategy like there hadn’t been a time they didn’t all work together. It was a hard fight. This particular villain coming from two sides, the humans and the actual monster.  
And then…Jennifer. He hadn’t anticipated that to be his biggest fear. But her voice sent a chill down his spine. And once again, he was weak, so very weak. Opening his eyes, he realized his mistake, and a face, dotted with moles and dark eyes flashed across his mind and then all was black.

It was as if he blinked, and he was breaking free, easily disarming Gerard’s minions and then it was suddenly over. He was out of the fight as soon as it had begun. He wasn’t surprised at all to hear that Stiles had once again created a flawless circle of mountain ash without intention. Then the gang was off onto the next mission. A young wolf, alone and terrified. Scott’s inability to let him be on his own just cemented Derek’s belief in the young Alpha. He was destined for this, much better than Derek was. He reminded Derek of his mom, kind and wise, accepting of help and counsel when needed. They all pulled into Beacon Hills for one last night before heading off again. Lydia, Scott and Stiles all heading to their respective homes, and Derek, well he went to the loft. He’d kept it, just in case. 

In case he needed to return.

In case he wanted to. 

When he walked in, he noticed a sheet covering something in the space. Not sensing a threat he uncovered… a couch . A small couch, really more of a loveseat. In either case, a couch/loveseat he absolutely did not have when he left, worn and soft. A coffee table, scratched and a little wobbly. An ottoman that opened to reveal dusty but clean blankets. There were more dishes in the kitchen than he remembered, a beat up microwave. The bed had a plastic tarp draped over it, and underneath it was new sheets. Who ever had done all this obviously hadn’t been back in a while, a fine layer of dust covering the tarp and sheet they’d put down. They had cared enough about the space to take care of it though, and it warmed something in Derek. The walls looked cleaner, painted a lighter grey than he remembered. He sunk to the edge of the bed, his exhaustion finally catching up to him. Falling back into the pillows he caught the softest hint of laundry detergent. Familiar laundry detergent. Inhaling again he tried to place it, but the dust and time had faded it beyond recognition. Sitting up again, he caught sight of a beat up entertainment center, it’s doors closed. Crossing to it, he opened them, to see an older, but still pretty decently sized TV and a DVD player. An empty case of Princess Bride sat on top of it. 

He stepped back, looking at the coffee table where, sure enough, two remotes sat. He stood, staring at the remotes, before deciding he didn’t have anything else to do. He pulled out a blanket, and settled in. He’d gotten fifteen minutes through the movie before he heard someone walking down the hall, and stopping at his door. He paused the movie and slowly stood from the couch, the heartbeat outside was fast, but steady, and familiar as the owner of the heartbeat slid a key into the lock. Right as the door swung open Derek recognized the sound. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, as the person in question crossed the threshold, and jumped. 

“Jesus Derek!” Stiles’ clutched his heart leaning against the doorway. “Why are you lurking in the dark!” 

“Why are you at my loft? How do you even have a key?”

“I swiped yours years ago, made a copy and got it back to you before you even noticed it was gone,” Stiles said, fully entering the space and closing the door behind him. “I see you found the TV.” 

“Yeah someone…” the words died on his lips as he looked at Stiles. Of course. “You did this.” Stiles shrugged, scuffing a shoe against the floor. 

“It was quiet after you left for about a minute. I got bored, needed a project. It just kind of happened,” Stiles still wasn’t looking at Derek. “I guess it made me feel… better? Shitty things happened here, I wanted to… I dunno. Give it a fresh coat of paint.” 

“Looks like you did a little more than that.” 

“I get easily carried away,” Stiles finally looked at Derek, a soft smile on his lips. “It was a good place to study, and just, get away. I guess I should have asked, I’m sorry.” 

“Stiles, it’s fine.” They looked at each other for a moment before Stiles let out a shaky laugh. The two looked at each other for another moment, Derek still trying to wrap his head around this new development. “Why…” 

“I just told you…”

“No, why are you here?” Stiles’ face didn’t betray the slight scent of sadness that filtered through the loft at that. 

“I… uhm,” he scratched at the back of his head absently. “I’m honestly not sure. I just needed a minute, and I guess this place is still in my autopilot.” Anxiety mixed with Stiles’ scent and his heart picked up in pace.

“Stiles, I’m not mad you’re here,” Derek said softly, Stiles relaxing at the words. “I’m just surprised is all. I figured you’d want some time with Scott and Lydia or your dad is all.” Stiles went back to staring at the floor, and if Derek didn’t know better, he would have said a blush was creeping up that long neck. Stiles mumbled something under his breath that even Derek’s ears couldn’t catch. 

“What?”

“It was weird you not being around.”

“Stiles, until last week we hadn’t seen each other in YEARS,” Derek pointed out, absolutely lost. 

“But the last week I’ve spent all my time with you, or trying to save you, or whatever. And then you ran off and I…” Stiles took a deep breath and then looked Derek straight in the eye. “I missed you okay? That’s why. That’s why I’m here and that’s why I decorated your stupid loft and spent all my free time here.”

Derek hadn’t been expecting that. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t that. Admittedly he had missed Stiles too but he figured that had to do with the strange feeling he’d had since he wasn’t under Jennifer’s control anymore. The one that flared when he’d seen Stiles in his FBI gear back in South Carolina. 

“Dude you have to say something, don’t just stare at me,” Stiles almost pleaded. 

“You missed me.”

“Yes, Sourwolf I missed you, is that so hard to believe?” Derek shrugged a little and Stiles rolled his eyes. “You were important. I trusted you. Maybe not from day one, I didn’t even like you day one but I grew to trust you, I mean I held you up in a pool and then you fought for me when the Nogitsune…” Stiles shivered ever so slightly and took a breath before moving on. “And so I knew we--I could count on you. Then you left and I… well I realized that you… meant more to me than the rest of the pack and they all missed you but it felt like this hole in my gut. But I knew you had to go, I mean Beacon Hills hasn’t been great to you and I ran the second I could so I figured it was best but still. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.”

“I mean, you DID leave us after almost dying and none of us got closure and then I got wiped from existence and---Wait, what?” 

“I missed you too Stiles,” Derek admitted softly. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t care about you, about all of you. You’re right about needing to get out. Thank you. For giving me that. But I did miss you, Stiles. And when…” he stopped, not sure he wanted to have any more of a conversation in this vein. Stiles looked at him, all anxiety and sadness gone from his scent, replaced by something else, something Derek wasn’t sure how to name. But it was warm, and made Derek’s heart clench in that way again. A way, he realized he hadn’t TRULY felt since Paige. Stiles straightened up and walked closer to Derek.

“Derek, I didn’t miss you like I miss Scott, it was, is…”

“I know.” Stiles laughed, a deep, happy sound. 

“Did you just Han Solo me?” 

“Maybe,” Derek shrugged. Hoping that would be enough for them. At least for tonight. Before either of them said anything else, Stiles saw the TV, still paused. 

“What are you watching?”

“The Princess Bride. It was here.”

“That’s where my copy went! I looked for it all over when I packed!” Stiles cried as he moved over to the couch, dropping into the spot Derek had been sitting in. “Come on, it’s my favorite non-Star Wars movie, let’s watch it.”

“Have you not seen it since you moved?”

“Oh no, I bought a new copy,” Stiles said shrugging, wrapping up in the blanket Derek had left on the couch. “This movie deserves a weekly viewing.” 

“I haven’t seen it in years,” Derek replied, settling back into the couch, next to Stiles. Having another person on the couch really emphasized the lack of space, but he didn’t mind. The warm line of Stiles’ leg pressed against his own was comforting, grounding. He even found Stiles’ occasional quoting of the movie endearing. The movie finished, but neither of them moved. The DVD menu played for a while before Stiles turned to Derek. 

“I had cable hooked up, wanna see what’s on?” 

“Sure,” Derek passed the remote to Stiles and let him flip through the channels before landing on HGTV. Derek snorted out a laugh, earning him an elbow to the side. 

“Hey, I had to learn how to decorate this place form somewhere. The Property Brothers taught me a lot,” he said, defiantly crossing his arms. 

“It wasn’t hard to improve what was here,” Derek shrugged, going for off handed, but the stricken look on Stiles’ face told him he’d missed his mark. “I mean, I was shot in the kitchen, and that was the least of the gore that happened in here,” he quickly blurted out. “It looks really good. Excellent...you know...interior designing.” Stiles smiled and rolled his eyes at that. 

“It was a labor of love,” Stiles’ cheeks pinked up and he shifted. “I mean, I had to have my own super cool hang out since all my friends are werewolves and this place seemed as good as any with all the...fond memories?” Derek stared at Stiles for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. 

“I question your word choice but okay, fair enough,” Derek said wiping at his eyes. Stiles was looking at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that, it’s great,” Stiles said with a shrug, burying deeper into the couch. Derek felt the flush that snuck up the back of his neck at that. 

“What you did here...Stiles really, thank you.”

“It wasn’t…”

“No, Stiles,” Derek shifted towards him as much as the tiny couch allowed him to. “It means a lot. Thank you.” The up tick in Stiles’ heart caught Derek off guard again. He was used to his slightly erratic heart beat but this had been something different. All night. Stiles opened his mouth and his phone went off. Fumbling, he pulled it out of his pocket, smashing up against Derek even more. 

“Shit, I should be getting home,” he said, fingers flying across the screen. He looked up at Derek again, a sheepish smile on his face. “Dad’s being a little clingy.”

“No it’s fine. You should go,” Derek said standing, offering a hand to Stiles, ignoring the warmth that pooled in his chest when he accepted it. “You all have a had a long few days.”

“You were right there with us big guy,” Stiles turned to look at them when he got to the door. “Thanks for coming back.”

“Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Anytime,” the smile that broke out on Stiles’ face was blinding. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And he was gone. Derek closed the door, hand resting on the back of it for a moment, breathing in the scent of Stiles still in the air. The sound of his own phone startled him out of his thoughts. It was his contact in North Carolina. They’d found the other vault. 

He picked up his bag, still packed, and grabbed his keys off the table. He got back to the door before stopping and looking back at the space. Setting his things down he quickly covered everything back up with the tarps and shut the entertainment center. He scrawled a quick note, set it on the table and left. 

Two Weeks After the Diner

He hadn’t meant to go two weeks before seeing Stiles again. He really hadn’t. The novel he’d been editing was taking all of his time and he had just kept losing track of time. Yet here he was, standing in front of Rise and Grind watching Stiles behind the counter. He took one more steadying breath and walked in. It was quiet, only a few patrons were scattered here and there, all absorbed in their own work. Stiles had his back to the front door, not turning around when the small bell above the door chimed. Derek made his way to the counter and cleared his throat softly, but even that made Stiles’ jump a bit.

“Jesus, I thought you had left your creepy stalker wolf days behind you,” Stiles muttered as he turned back to wiping down the machine he had been cleaning. 

“Sorry,” was all Derek was able to come up with. He stared at Stiles’ back, the lines of tension drawn across his shoulders. The few seconds that stretched out awkwardly between them felt like an eternity before Derek finally managed to open his mouth again. 

“You recommend anything?” Stiles’ hands stilled over the machine. He set the rag down and deliberately wiped his hands on his apron before turning around. 

“Excuse me?”

“The coffee….” 

“That’s what you have to say? Ask about the coffee?” He put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t just HAPPEN to be in the neighborhood. It’s not like this is on your way to work, or anywhere you go frequently.” Derek blinked in surprise at the heat behind Stiles’ voice, the emotion bubbling under the surface. “Are you gonna tell me you just happened to come by my work?”

“No, I was hoping to see you…”

“For my recommendation on coffee.”

“No Stiles I…” Stiles was already turning around back to fiddling with the machine. Derek took a breath before he spoke again. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you again. This novel…it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just not made contact.” 

“That is your brand.” A cup was placed in front of him, a few drops spilling out at the force. Stiles still coolly looking him over. Derek just looked between the cup and Stiles. Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s a latte, extra shot. No flavor cause you’re a walking stereotype.” 

“You remember?”

“Of course I do Derek. I remember all your stupid quirks. Because that’s what you do when you…” he abruptly cut off, sucking in a deep breath. 

“When you what, Stiles?”

“I REALLY don’t want to have this conversation at work,” Stiles almost whispered. 

“That’s fine, I actually...well I came by for a change of scenery to work, and hoping to see you, so I’ll uh, go work till you’re off. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” Stiles nodded, relaxing a little. 

“How much is the coffee?” Derek asked pulling out his wallet.

“On the house,” Stiles said, waving him off. “I did just kind of attack you, only fair.” Derek fished a five out and dropped it in the tip jar anyway. 

“I’ll be over there whenever you’re ready,” he said, nodding to a table by the window, taking his coffee in one hand. He tried to get to work, but couldn’t stop replaying his interaction with Stiles. After about thirty minutes he was finally able to focus on the manuscript. He lost himself in the story, a detective novel centering around the industrial revolution in America. If he had been picturing Stiles as the main character, no one needed to know that. He’d gotten a solid two hours of work done when someone dropped into the seat across from him. He held up a hand, pen running along the line he was reading. He made a quick note in the margin and looked up to see Stiles’ sitting there, a soft smile on his face. 

“You like what you do,” Stiles said. There was no question in his voice, which took Derek by surprise. 

“Uhm yeah, I really do,” Derek said with a shrug, capping his pen and gathering the pages back together. “You finished?” 

“Mhm,” Stiles hummed, reaching across the table to grab the stack of pages from Derek. “Detective novel? Not too shabby. You like it?” Stiles offered the paper back to Derek.

“Yeah I do,” Derek said carefully sliding the manuscript back into his bag. “I’ve edited two other manuscripts by this author. She’s really good.” 

“How many books a year do you get through?”

“I read a lot of manuscripts, trying to decide whether or not we should actually publish them, but as far as manuscripts I work on from day one to publish date, probably four or five? I don’t take on a whole lot but I like working with new authors.” Stiles was looking at him intently, but Derek was no longer fluent in translating his expressions. “Do you, uhm...do you still want to go grab dinner? We don’t have to I just thought that maybe…”

“No I want to,” Stiles interrupted his rambling, and stood from the table. “There’s this nice little bistro not too far from here, unless you had something else in mind?” 

“If it has your recommendation I’m all for it,” Derek replied smiling. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t think you can compliment my food taste and get out of this,” he said jabbing a finger into Derek’s chest. “I haven’t decided to not be mad at you anymore.” Derek dipped his head, trying to hide the smile on his face. 

“Well I guess we should get working on that, lead the way.” He looked up again when he felt Stiles’ finger leave his chest, already missing the physical connection to him. He took a deep breath and followed him out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out this wacky little fic I'm working on! If you like it, drop me a comment, I love to hear what you guys think. =)


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